


beauty in imperfection

by sangiebyheart



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Photographer!Seonghwa, Teacher!Yeosang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26721088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangiebyheart/pseuds/sangiebyheart
Summary: The world is far from perfect.The world is far from perfect, Seonghwa knows - though the gentleness of early mornings, of sunlight sneaking in through the blinds, illuminating the gold in his hands and the warmth in his hold tenfold, and making the treasure of his muse all the more precious to him, often has him reconsider.Or, a moment between lovers in the morning.
Relationships: Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 16
Kudos: 47





	beauty in imperfection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raiykei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiykei/gifts).



> this is for the lovely rai! thank you for giving me some fluffy seongsang to write, it was a delight.
> 
> they asked for seongsang cuddling, with artist (photographer) seonghwa and yeosang as his muse. i hope i did a good job.

The world is far from perfect.

The world is far from perfect, Seonghwa knows - though the gentleness of early mornings, of sunlight sneaking in through the blinds, illuminating the gold in his hands and the warmth in his hold tenfold, and making the treasure of his muse all the more precious to him, often has him reconsider.

Treacherous rays of the same magic which engulfs his love in a beautiful glow seek to wake him, placing their quiet spark upon his nose, which scrunches so cutely, Seonghwa must immediately take the opportunity to plant a kiss on the tip, sealing the deal with fate to bring his love into the world of the living.

Kang Yeosang, Seonghwa has found, is not always a creature all that fond of the morning hours. 

His angelic beauty, however, is hardly suffering from his aversion, as even the ugliest of frowns fails to hide it underneath soft, round cheeks, smushed against pillows or arms in search for nightly comfort; sometimes, Seonghwa himself has the pleasure and the privilege of giving his prince a safe place to rest upon.

They do not always get to have this - this moment of tranquility before the day has any chance to bare its claws at them, to pull them into the thick of imperfection that demands perfection in each and every step they take. Usually, it is Seonghwa who is absent, spending most of his professional life outside of the country, much to Yeosang’s very vocal dismay - for if it is not Seonghwa missing from the rare ritual they share, it is Yeosang’s own work schedule asking his attentions in too early of an hour for Seonghwa to truly appreciate wakefulness with him.

There is so much beauty in the mundane - in the bakery across the street, in the old couple watching birds in the park, in the shy art teacher who had caught a tired editor’s eye many years ago, when all hope was lost and he yearned for a new source of inspiration. Seonghwa is proven right in this assumption every second he spends with Yeosang, holds the time with him close to his singing heart when he knows he must part again soon, to pursue what he never would have gotten to purse without Yeosang as the very muse that saved Seonghwa from forgoing his passion for a safe nine-to-five job which had him miserable at the end of every work day.

Capturing grace in motion, catching the silence red-handed, having the single soul to reawaken the fire inside him in front of his camera after he had half a mind to sell it, Seonghwa remains far too honored whenever Yeosang allows him to take pictures of him when he dances, teaches, draws - is as he is, Kang Yeosang in his most natural states of being, doing anything and everything, except for the very thing that most of Seonghwa’s clients do - posing for the now high-end, sought-after photographer that he is.

What would they say, the lot of them that praise him for his talents to transform what you see into something _real_ and _tangible_ , on the pages of magazines and screens high up broadcasting the newest fashion campaigns, if they knew the secret to Seonghwa’s success lies safely within his arms, encapsulated within one regular human being?

In his world, in this new world Seonghwa has grown accustomed to after years of gray offices, unfriendly coworkers and even unfriendlier superiors, Yeosang would perhaps find footing as a model, stalk across runways and present his face to the entire globe - if he just spoke one word of such a wish to Seonghwa, it would not take him long to realize a dream, he is sure, for he knows the effects of the captivating stare, the high blush on cheeks, and the pretty purse of lips.

As it stands, however, Seonghwa is quite glad that the love of his life is rooted in the real world, away from judgement and criticism so inhumane, Seonghwa could hardly stand to watch it break Yeosang’s walls down and reduce him to his looks, rather than his entire soul behind the beautifully painted facade.

Seonghwa is glad Yeosang is reminding him of where he himself is coming from, pulls his boyfriend, close, close, close so Seonghwa has no choice but to surrender to Yeosang’s requests - though, if Seonghwa does so willingly, gladly, happily, is it not a gentle fall into feather lightness instead?

Seonghwa takes a part of Yeosang with him, when he travels around, and in return, he always brings something back to him - something useless, something of a thousand, like a seashell from the sands of a city with ocean view, or a pen sneakily stolen from a conference room in an old, smelly office building. Clutter that has no significance in either of their lives, until suddenly, it _does_.

Yeosang has long since asked him to stop - no one needs as much sentimentality as Seonghwa brings into their shared home, and yet, there is an unspoken reassurance in the way Yeosang arranges it in a neat and orderly manner, on display for curious visitors, so as to appease both Seonghwa’s wish for cleanliness as well as his urge to have a little trinket as a reminder of times when all he does is miss his love.

The last thing he brought back, though - from a long work trip abroad before his well-deserved vacation at home - is anything but unnecessary; a pure silver necklace, simple yet striking, much like Yeosang himself in his brightest moments. A ring to accompany it, dangling from the necklace even in sleep, as Yeosang holds fast onto it as he prepares himself for the sunlight in his eyes.

A promise, a vow, and Seonghwa had found himself engaged to Yeosang after bringing it up upon a dinner date, a question posed between the presenting of the gift and bowls of delicious food. Yeosang had only laughed in his face, much like Yeosang’s parents had not two weeks prior after Yeosang had finally introduced him to them in the proper way, and gave a few, tender strokes across the back of Seonghwa’s hand, subtle enough to not be so scandalizing in public.

He had said, “Took you long enough,” without meeting his eyes, cheeks red and hiding tears that did not quite escape Seonghwa’s notice after all, and Seonghwa had never loved the man more than in this blissful moment of flustered happiness.

Though maybe, this one may pose as quite the rival - Yeosang has given into the dreadful reality of a new day, groans to announce his unmatched distress, and buries his face in Seonghwa’s exposed collarbones, snuggling closer even as Seonghwa’s chest vibrates with cheerful laughter.

This is a sight only Seonghwa gets to behold - Yeosang stripped down to his bare emotions, self, loveliness, something even the pictures do not tell a story of; Seonghwa means to reserve just a little bit to himself, the last drop of a valued, golden ambrosia, if Seonghwa may speak in so high a metaphor - Yeosang himself often appears godlike to him, and he, a mere mortal, nearly goes insane upon the sight, even through the lens of a camera.

His profile and his back is a limited goodness he shares with the world through a black and white portfolio - Yeosang’s face, his sparkling eyes, tantalizing lips, unique birthmark, all of this in full color, Seonghwa shall keep to himself and to Yeosang, whose embarrassed giggles tend to sound through their entire apartment whenever Seonghwa shows him recent shots he took of him.

“Good morning, sweet prince,” Seonghwa murmurs, a kiss placed on Yeosang’s temple when the spoiled royal grumbles in distaste of the sun fighting for his place in their own bedroom. “Now, now, no need to be so grumpy.”

“I’ll be grumpy to my heart’s content, thank you very much,” Yeosang says, every word vibrating against Seonghwa’s skin, leaving a melody etched into his every fibre, to sing along to later, when Yeosang chooses to touch him in places only he has access to.

“Okay, grumpy _kitten_ ,” Seonghwa teases with a smooth voice, barely evading the playful jab to his side upon practically purring the nickname into Yeosang’s ear.

Yeosang faces him, then, eyes narrowed in both the remains of fatigue and overall discontent at being awake, and bites out, soft voice failing to amplify the threat he seeks to pose, “You know, kittens can scratch, too. I’d be careful if I were you.”

Seonghwa laughs, fondness taking the reins when Yeosang’s hands move to curl into paws of a cat, short nails lightly grazing Seonghwa’s cheeks in retaliation for--for what crime, Seonghwa does not know, but it is of no matter to him when Yeosang bites and scratches and leaves his marks, but gives kisses to soothe Seonghwa’s skin immediately afterwards.

Yeosang is so lovely in the morning, is Seonghwa’s only conclusion - it is still a wonder, a dream to him, to have this moment, and Seonghwa is so incredibly, unfathomably in love with Yeosang, his heart may just burst at the seams if he does not lend it a voice soon.

“You’re adorable, Sangie,” he coos, pressing another kiss to Yeosang’s forehead.

Yeosang stops his little attacks, watches Seonghwa for a second before he groans in realization, cheeks becoming like red roses. “Oh, _no_ , you’re in one of _those_ moods,” he complains, bringing his hands up to his face to shield himself from Seonghwa’s sight. “It’s too early for this.”

“Too early for what?” Seonghwa laughs, rising to hover above Yeosang, who now buries the side of his head into a pillow. “Complimenting the love of my life? My muse, my inspiration, the man who has brought the sunshine back into my rainy world?”

“Shut up,” Yeosang mumbles, only half-meaning it, for the edges of a smile peak through the gaps between his fingers, and Seonghwa loves how even after years of the torture of Seonghwa’s affections, Yeosang still has not gotten used to their full force once he is subjected to them. Yeosang is so delightfully easy to fluster, to throw for a loop and another one right after that, and Seonghwa has the utmost pleasure at riling him up to the point that Yeosang has to kiss him senseless to shut him up.

“Never,” Seonghwa swears, carefully nudging the hand on Yeosang’s face away from his cheek, threading their fingers together, only to pull the hand close to his mouth, and soon enough, soft lips grace its back in another firm suggestion of Seonghwa’s adoration. 

He hears Yeosang sigh, in what he hopes to be content.

Seonghwa continues, unafraid of his deepest emotions, “How can I ever shut up when I’ve got an angel for a boyfriend? Beautiful, smart, talented. The loveliest dancer I have ever seen. He walks into the room and it feels like the sun is coming up.”

Yeosang blinks up at him, brown eyes glimmering in the light. “That’s too much praise for someone as simple as me,” he says, and Seonghwa knows he does not equal simple to bad, for they have had this conversation time and time again; that, in Seonghwa’s world, a mere elementary school art teacher could never hold the candle to a star photographer - those realms are too far apart, they do not collide in any manner, in any possibility.

And yet, Seonghwa reminds him that they have defied the odds, that they continue to do so because they have chosen one another multiple times over, even when Seonghwa’ struggle to fit into a new world of photography or Yeosang’s foot injury nearly tore them apart when they needed each other’s unconditional support the most. 

Yeosang had been unable to dance for two whole months, home from work and stuck inside their then tiny apartment, all by himself as Seonghwa went on work trip after work trip to chase new successes.

Both of them had been unhappy when they were apart, even unhappier when they were together, and only Yeosang’s stubbornness and Seonghwa’s persistence on talking about everything that tripped them on their individual paths kept them upright, when their ship was hit by a seemingly endless storm.

But nobody said love was easy, that love was kind to you all the time - it is rocky, more often than not, it is hard work, but Seonghwa takes the burdens and the joys, the doubts and the assurances, takes Yeosang’s love and gives his own - because to Seonghwa, there is nothing that could fill his heart up to the brim as well as Yeosang does. No puzzle piece to fit him better, a string attached to his finger which pulls Yeosang in even if he is far away and oceans between them.

Seonghwa values the gold in his hands, knowing that by unfortunate circumstance, it might slip out of his grasp quickly if he does not hold on tight. 

Money may buy him the entire world if he so wishes, though it could never get him _his_ world - the man he has loved even before, the man he will love even after.

“There is never enough praise for you, my dear Yeosang,” Seonghwa tells him in earnest, voice low and shaky, but his spirits are high and certain, “and if you don’t stop me, you will never hear the end of it, either.”

Yeosang sits up, eyes set on Seonghwa’s face; he musters him with careful scrutiny, a soft curve to his rosy lips, and then he frees his hand from Seonghwa only to grasp his neck, drawing him in closer - and Seonghwa, well, Seonghwa does not usually like kissing in the morning, for their breath is bad and their bones too tired, but this time, it is different. Rooted in such deep feeling that Seonghwa accepts Yeosang’s request to open up to him with a happy heart.

When they part, gasping for air, Yeosang rests his forehead against Seonghwa’s, taking him in, and quips, “Glad that I know a thing or two about how to get you to be quiet.”

Seonghwa joins into Yeosang’s tired giggle, and before he can say another word, or even utter the infamous three words he has said countless times already, Yeosang dives in again, tastes the sound of this love confession right off Seonghwa’s lips.

The world is far from perfect, Seonghwa knows.

But with Kang Yeosang in his arms, peaceful mornings allowing the blossoming of love’s tranquility, Seonghwa finds that it really ought not to be.

There is too much beauty in imperfections.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, i ask any reader to come forward and tell me how you liked this!! leave kudos and love in the comments.
> 
> i thank you for reading. see you next time with some yungi.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/sangiebyheart) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/sangiebyheart)


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